pastorella | I've been watching you for some time...

I've been watching you for some time...

Cassie had fucked up quite a bit before, but it always worked out. Somehow, someway - something or someone came through. Hell, even sometimes that someone was her. But, this was a mess. Pritkin was gone, like gone gone and she had no idea how to get him back. Reuniting him with his soul, she thought that would be the end. She didn't believe Rosier had lied to her, didn't think he had the balls. But the council? She'd been willing to go to the ends of the Earth for that man and all she got back was a lousy Incubi Prince that was determined to wreck her day. The kids were safe, that was all that mattered. Whatever happened to her, she could deal with it.

She just needed one thing to not be a mess.

Coming back from the mess of the Ares and Apollo fight, Mircea had figured too much shit out and in a fit of her own personal rage at the double standards he kept putting on her... She admitted to sleeping with Pritkin. Anyone else, Mircea probably wouldn't have cared, but for some reason, that particular dick-measuring contest was just one Mircea refused to lose. So, he was teaching her a lesson and that alone told her more than she ever needed to know. She wasn't going to bring back his wife and she wasn't going to be solely his to bed while he did god knows what with whoever while she was off saving the world. Her fingers curl over the pages poured out in front of her, studying wards and protection against Incubi that Caleb had left for her before heading out - the last to leave her makeshift safe house. They'd warded the place as best they could, but Pritkin was a war mage so it's not like he couldn't take them down. It was just to give her enough time to run. Something Caleb had drilled into her skull more than once.

Saying goodbye to Rhea and Billy Joe had hurt the most. The kids would be okay, but she didn't want Rhea to have any guilt over what happens. There hadn't been enough time to do any sort of formal handing over of titles, but the people that needed to know knew that if Cassie went down, Rhea should be the next in line. She'd left her necklace with the little girl with the beautiful curls who was also a clairvoyant. Listening to Billy scream at her to not do this had cracked the resolve she'd formed around herself.

Fuck.

For as much of an ass Mircea could be, she was grateful he'd allowed her court to stay in the casino even if she had to go. It was for the best for them - staying there with Marco and Tami to keep them safe. They weren't the target, after all. She was. She knew she was. Once upon a time, she'd have probably been naive enough to think no one would care that much about her, but she was a 5 course meal to an Incubus with the Pythian powers. And after that not so little power exchange she and Pritkin had done in the tent by the river, she probably still had his attention.

Standing in the center of the sparse studio apartment, boarded up windows, a dining room table with one chair, a couch, and a bed... It wasn't much, but it was going to be home for awhile. At least until she or the others had an answer on how to fix Pritkin. Dressed simply in a black tanktop and shorts, she thought about taking a shower, the action always relaxing her. At least, that had been the plan until she stepped into the small bathroom and was reminded of the shitty fixtures. Trying the shower, she could barely get hot water, a sound of exasperation finally escaping. Cassie yells to no one in particular, her focus shifting from the wards to her rage for a split second.

"Really? I can't even get some steam?"

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The newest Prince of Hell is loose. He’s not technically supposed to be here, sweeping through the darkened night skies above the human world. But he’s a Prince of Hell, there is none that contain him or hold him back.

Well, that’s not technically true, but its not in him to admit any weakness, or that any can wield more power than he. And just because he’s not supposed to be here was not good enough reason to keep him away, especially when his hunger waxed strong. He was tired of being bound, as eons had passed in Hell since his last excursion here. Not that he could remember much of that, because everything before his ascension to Prince had been lost in the process of his actual ascension. He doubted any of it was important, however. Mostly because he’d woken up hungry so clearly it had been boring and unfulfilling.

But now he was out to hunt for his own prey, sweeping high over the bright lights of a human city, able to smell the answering hungers, desires, lusts, all swirling and calling to him from below. This city was full of decadence, of desire, and he drank it in with an anticipating bliss. Oh, he was going to feed well tonight.

Before he could dive down among them, however, a surge of emotion tickles the edge of his senses. it’s not lust or hunger or desire, so entirely the wrong emotions to gain his attention, but there’s something about it that catches his interest anyway. It’s strong and potent and... different from the rest in the city. Unique?

His interest is piqued enough that he changes direction, swirling towards the source of that niggling sense of... power? t takes him a few moments to zero in on it because its muddled, hidden, but he will not be deterred. Finally pinpointing it, he swoops down, phasing through a wall and feeling the whisper of magic prickling against his skin as he shatters a magical ward.

Hmm. Interesting. That had tickled.

That moment of anger at the shower quickly fades into blind panic as one of the wards pops. She'd been told he was still in Hell, that she had some time. What the actual fuck was he doing up here so soon? Steeling her nerves, she swallows hard and steps out of the small bathroom to confirm what she already knew.

And oh god it's worse than she thought.

He looks good, but holy shit -- he's terrifying.

Giving it less than a moment's thought about the amount of work that had gone into this place only to have it go so wrong so fast, she just throws out a time bubble at him and shifts - hoping he'll get caught in the bubble and it'll slow down the pursuit. Pritkin had once pushed her past what she thought was her physical breaking point when it came to shifting. She'd spent so long running on fumes that the thought of having to shift until he hopefully gets bored with her seems optimistically doable.

Cassie lands in a field in the English countryside, suddenly regretting her choice given her lack of clothes... And shoes. Goddamnit. Okay. Alright, it's fine. She's fine. He totally can't follow her to another continent that quickly. Right? Quietly, she keeps vigil - scanning everything around her as adrenaline floods her system. Fear was going to be her friend right now, she just needed to ride it out long enough before the crash hit.

There’s a long moment of silence and stillness in the country field that lasts just long enough to possibly lull her into a false sense of security.

And then a figure swoops down at her out of the night sky, landing right in front of her with no warning.

“Clever little mouse.”

She swallows a scream as he lands, unable to stop the involuntary flinch. Before she can stop herself, she barks a response at him as though she were still talking to Pritkin - like he was still somewhere in there. "Really? Could you get more cliché?"

She then bamfs herself three more times, to Japan, then a beach, and then New York City. The sidewalk is wet and cold against her feet, but she keeps her head down - stepping out of the alley and into the crowd, hoping he might lose her - doing her best to throw up some quick mental wards to block any magical traces she could be giving off. This could work. Right? Sure. She fucking hoped so, at least.

A moment later, he’s there beside her in the crowd, huddled close to her, one arm twining about her waist and then dragging her tight against his side in a secure hold. One hand curls fingers around her wrist, effectively trapping her with him for the moment.

“Now who’s being cliche?”

Alright, well, running was done. Shifting with him attached to her would only drain her more and obviously there was no point in wasting energy when he was just going to keep this up. Maybe she could talk her way out of this. Adjusting slightly in the tight hold, she actively reminds herself that this isn't the same man she'd told she loved. That guy was gone. Pritkin was gone.

"What do you want, John?"

"Who?"

He arches an eyebrow at that, staring down at her nonplussed. There's no recognition in his gaze - not of her or the name she'd used. Instead, he just looks bemused, head cocked slightly to the side as he studies her with an intent - and intense - gaze.

"Ahh, I see. You cavort so frequently with demons, do you? But I'm afraid you must be confused, little mouse."

"For some reason lately, yes. You guys should look into getting a frequent flyer punch card." She stops their movement, not trying to break the hold. Instead, she shifts in his grasp so she can look up at him - bodies almost pressed together. Though, she's genuinely doing her best to avoid as many points of contact as possible. He was dangerous enough when he was in control of himself. Her tangles with his father when he wasn't trying to be nice about it still makes her blood run cold. "Mainly you and your father, Rosier. And Rian. And Casanova - any of those names ringing bells since your own doesn't?"

People move around them, horns honking and colors flashing as life continues on and everything suddenly feels too public and exposed. "And my name is Cassie, not little mouse. You know that. Somewhere beneath whatever they did to you, you know that." She keeps stupidly holding onto a tiny shred of hope that she can still get through to him, that even if he starts feeding she can keep trying to remind him of who he is... That if he starts feeding, he'll remember enough to not kill her. She didn't want to have to try and drain him to save her own life. There was more than enough blood on her hands.

What she says rings a lot of bells - if not for the reasons she intends. His gaze narrows in sudden speculation and then his arm is tightening around her waist, drawing her tightly against him. There's a jerk upwards, sudden and without warning, and a moment later they're standing on a high rooftop above the crowds she'd sought to hide from him in - just the two of them.

He leans in close as he holds her, his nose brushing under her ear at that shallow dip just behind it, lips teasing against her throat in what seems like a very intimate and teasing caress. And then he pulls back to give her a somewhat incredulous look.

"And you remain unclaimed? Not even my father has done so?"

Rosier was not known for restraint, after all. He does not include himself in that list because clearly if he'd encountered her in the past, it was before his ascension, before he would have felt any need to do so. Now, though? Now is a different matter entirely.

They're moving and he's close and she's not sure if she wants to laugh or cry once her own gears start to spin and put the pieces together about her predicament. She mostly succeeds in not responding to the little bit of affection he was showing because rationally, she knows it's not him and it's not coming from a place of friendship or even love. But, it's familiar and inviting and--

Pump the breaks. Brows knitting, her headstrong nature wins out. If she could put her hands on her hips, she would. Instead, she's just going to have to settle for attempting to look Important while being dwarfed by his figure. "Your father didn't try to claim me, he tried to kill me. Big difference." She liked to think she could pull off some sort of intimidation with the quick snap of her words and a steely gaze... Right? Cassie continues to bristle, like it'll make a difference since he took making a scene off the table. "And since you apparently need the reminder, I'm Pythia. If you try and claim me, you and a bunch of other people are going to have an issue."

Seems convincing and vaguely true. Her office was supposed to stay neutral. Even if she'd been bad at that from the get-go. Had to start following the rules at some point. This seemed like as good a time as any.

His gaze is still narrowed in speculation as he studies her, only paying attention to the words that had any meaning to him whatsoever. Which was maybe a third of them. The rest of it was clearly her puffing up like a defensive little hedgehog and could be easily ignored.

"There are not many things my father fails at." Which has just made her very ineresting, in his opinion. Probably not what she was hoping for at all, but he pays that little mind.

"Those others are welcome to their own issues, I have little care for them. I assure you, there will be no 'try' with me." Was that meant to sound reassuring? No, not at all. And if she thought, for a moment, that that might mean he'd taken her threats to heart and was about to release her.... well, she's in for a nasty surprise. Instead, he just keeps his grip on her firm and secure.... and then launches them into the air above the bright city. Dark wings spread from behind him - an illusion, perhaps, although they look real enough with dark silken feathers that ripple in the cool night air. She's anchored against his chest in a firm grip as he wings through the night and away from the city.

Omg, wow Pritkin. A fleeting thought goes through her mind of just how extra he's being as she fails at holding back the sound of surprise as they take off. She'd thought they'd left 13th century behaviors behind them, but here she was being carried off into the night by a proverbial monster with no one to save her. Great. Just great. This was going swimmingly. Rather than panicking, she waits - seeing where he's taking her before she tries to shift, something about physics and an object in motion ringing a bell. If she were to shift them to her hidey hole, it probably wouldn't go well. BUT, if she shifts them once they stop moving, it might give her enough time to use the one power word she knows to boost herself enough to reinforce a ward and freeze him so she can call for help. Who? She had no idea, but it was a start. She'd figure out the rest on the fly, as per usual.

That'll show him. This defensive little hedgehog has some tricks up her sleeve.

Except he's not all that keen on giving her the opportunity. He can all but hear those gears in her head starting to turn with plots of escape and resistance, so for the moment, he stalls them with a thought.

Or rather, a scent.

It emanates from him like a rich perfume, exotic and a hint spicy. No doubt somewhat familiar to her, because there's something deeply marked as Prikin in the scent but also different and new, as well. More potent. More mesmerizing. It teases against her senses, wraps around her mind, ensnaring her with sudden heat, a hunger. The need o stay pressed as close to him as possible and making him as necessary as oxygen. Giving her an insatiable craving that only he can sate - should he choose to, at any rate.

The sensation is familiar, giving her a chance to murmur 'oh shit' as he rolls her. Something deep down has her wondering if getting hit this hard will give her the hangover vamp rolling usually does. And then everything melts and all she wants is to explore his body again, their time always so rushed. It was always an emergency and it was always on his terms. Well, now it was her emergency and she needed him to stop flying and help her.

Gasping, she squirms against his firm body, the fabric of her clothes creating a horrible barrier between them. She needed them off, needed him.

"J--John, please--" She tries to have a coherent thought, tries to even just form a sentence without the words 'fuck'and 'me'. She used to judge those women so often that were addicted to the high that came with being rolled when feeding, used to think they were weak. That she was different.

Cassie has a brief moment of clarity, her body humming as it actively drags her back into the bliss of wanton disregard for her safety. "D-don't do this." The words are weak and lack commitment, basically trailing off in a moan - her lips pressing into the fabric on his chest.

Way to stay strong, Cassie. Killing it.

Ahhh, that's better. Now that alluring tease of her power is flavored more to his liking. Still prickly, of course, but softening by the moment. And the hunger... It's as deep and potent as her rage had been when she'd caught his attention the first time. This one, this Pythia, clearly did nothing by halves. He liked that.

His grip remained tight around her as he winged away from the bustling city with its distractions and crowds - they held no interest for him right now, his focus wholly on the prey that squirmed against his chest and tugged at his clothes. He smiles when she starts to beg, sharp and predatory, but the expression changed into a surprised bark of laughter when her plea changes to something else.

"Pet, I haven't even begun to do anything yet."

A threat and a promise, all wrapped up in one. It was up to her on how to interpret that. Either way, he was determined now, and his scent kept playing along her senses, teasing her, caressing along her skin and throbbing along with her pulse like an intoxicating whisper.

She was having a love/hate relationship with the heat pooling between her legs, pretty sure she's breaking out in cold sweats from the adrenaline and arousal. Her body was confused from the dramatic shift, but her mind was clear on one thing -- him.

And then he's speaking and that anger sparks back. The hell he hasn't done anything. "You... you're a shitty liar." Her breathing is more labored as she tries and tries to fight the pull of him, but her hands have a different idea. They continue to roam, a difficult task with how close they are and the whole flying thing. Pulling on the leather jacket, she revels in the texture and how the fabric held onto his smell. And how much better it looked than his usual baggy and worn leather trenchcoat he wore to hide his 8000 weapons. One hand slips underneath it, trailing down the side of his body - trying to find the hem of his shirt.

A list of insults rise and fall from the tip of her tongue as she descends further and further into letting her carnal desires take hold. Pritkin had once told her she was the strongest person he knew. She could do this.

Pulling at his clothes, she closes her eyes and after a few tries successfully shifts them to the English Countryside she had run to the first time. They're still in the air, Cassie having missed the mark of the ground. She goes to try again but everything in her brain is too muddy to succeed, the shift taking more than she'd expected.

Shitshitshit.

Edited 2020-01-24 21:20 (UTC)

Her disgruntled comeback gets another bark of laughter from him, even as he wobbles a bit at suddenly being jumped to the English Countryside. At least he had a firm hold on her this time and could easily right them both upon arrival.

Much darker and more secluded than the noisy city. This will do nicely. Scanning the surroundings, he wings for a grassy knoll, dark under the faint light of a crescent moon and a thousand stars overhead. Yes, this will do nicely.

He dives, taking them both to the ground at a dizzying speed, but he wings back at the last moment to slow their descent before impact. Instead, she comes to rest against the soft cool grass of the hillside with a gentle push, his body already over hers and pinning her to the ground beneath him. One of his knees is pressed between her legs, tight and knowing as it rubs up against that heat he knew was growing. Would continue to grow until he saw fit to sate himself on it. And perhaps her, as well.

"Poor confused pet. I'm not lying. I've barely even touched you yet. I have so much more planned for you this night. This is only the beginning."

There's a regretful thought about where she'd shifted them to before the change of direction has her mind spinning - gravity already a struggle before she'd fucked this up. The grass is cold against her back, Cassie grasping at straws to stay herself. On the upside, she was about 90% it would hurt -- the feeding. Pritkin never hurt her when he'd fed during his declared "emergencies".

Unfortunately for him, if there was one thing she could use to keep from succumbing to the weightless feeling trying to drag her into a promise of bliss and peace, it was her stubbornness. As long as he kept calling her pet, unless he rolled her again, she might be able to hold onto a little piece of anger... Even if she can't stop her hips from rocking against the knee between her legs as she tries to free her hands.

"I'm... not your pet--" Oh god. "You motherfu--!" Oh shit. "Let me g--" She lets out a cry of pent up frustration, whether that frustration is sexual or just anger is open to interpretation. She practically screams "You're an ass" at the night sky, though it's partially unintelligible as her back arched off of the grass - eyes closing in horrified pleasure. If she put a time bubble around his head-- No. What if she-- Not gonna work. She could-- Cassie shakes her head in a hope to clear the fog, loose blonde curls partially covering her face. Maybe if the grass turned her hair green, he'd be turned off.

It's rather adorable, how hard she struggles to resist him. He'd almost be tempted to continue to let her wage her war against herself, her resistance crumbling in the face of her body's increasing need and demands. But there's also enjoyment to be found in watching her melt beneath him as well, which is why he threads his fingers through her hair, turning her to face him, and lets his magic loose once more, that intoxicating wash of allure and arousal that wraps them both in a bubble of heat and desire.

"Be still, pet. I'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs in a soft, soothing tone that almost sounds affectionate as he bends to capture her lips in a deep, coaxing kiss.

Except he already had. It's the last coherent thought she manages before everything turns to a very familiar mush with a singular focus. And oh god was it a good focus. Her objections melt away as she relaxes into the kiss, the power rolling over her like a thousand electrical pricks along her skin bringing her nerves to life.

The hands that had been pushing and maybe just hitting him in the chest a little grab at his jacket as if she might drown if she didn't have a lifeline. After having ended things with Mircea and losing Pritkin to his father after she just got him back and feeling disconnected from her Court... more so now with the move. Having someone else take the control away from her for a moment, someone she'd trusted so deeply -- it was bliss? Why had she never done this before? She'd fought for so long to just be her own person and to only answer to herself, but it didn't have to be negative. Adjusting the leg outside of the knee between hers, she wraps it around him trying to close every gap between their bodies. Her sex drive, or lack thereof lately, was quickly telling her brain to shut up because she needed this. Badly.

"That's it."

It's a soft, reassuring murmur as he chases kisses against her lips, teasing and quick as he slides his hands up her arms and then down her sides. There's a faint pinprick of sharp nails through the fabric of her clothing before questing fingers slide in to massage against her breasts, cupping them in his palms as he adds to the stimulation currently assaulting her senses.

He keeps his magic emanating and wrapping around her for now, preferring her pliant in his arms rather than wasting all that energy on escaping. He has much better uses for it, after all.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he nips tauntingly at her lower lip before kissing her again. "Don't you feel silly for running away now?"

He's kissing her again and again and his hands are moving... And while she'd never wanted to learn what it felt like to walk through fire, the heat rushing through her couldn't be far off.

God, he was still rolling her with his magic - her mind flashing back to the time in the back of the car while Caleb had been driving. Rosier had rolled her then, but it felt nothing like this. She felt like putty under him and he'd literally only kissed her and touched her a little. When this was all over, she'd feel more than a little stupid for how quickly she'd laid herself out like a five-course meal for him. Later. She'd be mad later.

Once her hands are free, she tangles them in that stupidly deceptive soft hair she'd grown to adore - her back arching off the grass into the hands dancing over her skin. Her breath catches, eyes fluttering open for a moment to look at him.

Nothing to be afraid of except the big, bad Incubus Prince on top of her. Yeah, harmless. If she survived this without somehow ending up in a fucking harem, she'd have some choice words for the Silver Circle's idea of wards. "Nyyyye--" The two letter word gets stuck on her tongue as it turns into the weirdest yes she's ever uttered. Like if the word decided to go off on a weekend bender and forgot it was supposed to sound like english.

"Fffuck." Eloquence, thy name is Cassie Palmer.

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I've been watching you for some time...

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